


on the job

by lovelivesinthedream



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, mafia!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5556191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelivesinthedream/pseuds/lovelivesinthedream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minseok is a detective that will do whatever is necessary to keep his mob boss boyfriend out of trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on the job

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for yourmafiaexo fic fest on lj. So fair warning before you read, I don't know anything about police work or the mafia. I made it all up. Thanks to the mods of the fest, the prompter, and anyone that reads!

A red folder lands across his desk with a slap. He stops typing up his report on a traffic incident that happened earlier in the day, turning away from the screen of his computer in order to look up at his boss.

“What’s this?”

“There’s been another one. Body was found by a fisherman at the same location as the other three about twenty minutes ago.” Chief Lee rubs a hand over his tired eyes. Exhaustion slumps his shoulders and causes the early greying of his hairline. “Find Park and get out there.”

“Of course, sir. Right away.”

The Chief nods in approval, but it’s obvious that his mind is already lost in thought, drowning in cases, as he wanders back out. The door of Minseok’s office closes behind him with a soft thud. Minseok takes a moment to center himself – it’s the only quiet he’s going to get if he has to spend the next few hours with Chanyeol.

His partner isn’t all that bad, really. It’s not like he ended up with Byun Baekhyun, who is too loud, or Do Kyungsoo, who is too solemn. They’re nice enough people; however, they would have been incompatible partners for him on the job. Luckily, Chanyeol is a little bit of both: he likes to joke around, _and_ he knows when it’s time to be serious.

It helps that he’s overly trusting, too.

Taking a fortifying swig of his coffee, Minseok prepares himself. It’s time to get to work.

  
*****

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” Chanyeol asks, tilting his head to the side. “This is the fourth body to be dumped here in two months. How is it possible that there’s never any solid evidence left behind?” Chanyeol grumbles. He kicks over a patch of loose stones with the toe of his shiny black shoe. Seagulls caw in the background from their perch on a pole nearby.

The waves rolling into the harbor are dark and deep, mounting with the rising tide that brings them crashing against the dock. Storm clouds are blackening the sky. The wind has picked up, biting through his thin jacket with each gust. With any luck, it’ll pour soon. It’s always nice when nature decides to cooperate. It certainly makes things easier for Minseok, anyway.

While his partner is busy looking around further away, Minseok carefully pulls on a brand new pair of white latex gloves. He’s endlessly glad that it’s necessary to wear them while handling evidence – he can’t leave fingerprints behind because Chanyeol has a suspicious streak a mile long, like a bloodhound after even the tiniest shred of information that can bring criminals to justice. He’s just lucky Chanyeol is loyal to a fault and believes every word Minseok says without question. He and Minseok are very similar in that regard except Chanyeol is loyal to the idea of justice, and Minseok… well, Minseok is loyal to Yifan.

Which is what brings him to this.

With a quick glance around to make sure there aren’t any witnesses, Minseok takes the plastic bag out of his pocket and upends the contents on the stones. It’s just a few stray hairs that he’s picked up on the bus over a few months and a cigarette butt he found on the sidewalk before, but it’ll be enough to throw the department off the trail of the real culprit.

“I found a few things here, but it’s most likely from visitors passing through,” he calls over his shoulder once it’s all in place. Shrugging, he steps carefully around the scene. “I guess this serial killer must know what he or she is doing. They’re good at making us look incompetent, that’s for sure.”

He places a yellow marker on the ground so the forensic team will photograph the scene and collect the ‘evidence.’

Chanyeol is quiet for a long moment. Too long. Feeling cautious, Minseok glances up from where he’s crouched to inspect what _might_ be part of a shoeprint – he’s relieved to see it’s from someone with small feet, thus he has no qualms about flagging it to be photographed. Someone from forensics will have to do a cast of it once he and Chanyeol are done here. For now, he needs to figure out why Chanyeol’s brows are furrowed, his lips pulled down in an expression of doubt.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s not a serial killer,” Chanyeol states bluntly. He holds up one hand to tick off each point with a finger before Minseok can cut him off. “Hear me out! From what we can tell, all four people have a different victimology. Their ages, races and occupations are all different. Two of them aren’t even from this country. These people weren’t killed slowly or creatively the way a serial killer would have done. There’s no discernable motive. Literally, the only thing that we know about the victims for sure is that they all have friends with very tight lips.” He steps closer, lowering his voice so the forensic team can’t overhear. His face is grave. “Chafed wrists and ankles from being bound. Minor surface abrasions, defensive wounds. A single shot to the head, close range and a simple black dragon drawn over the hands.” His eyes flash with challenge. “You know what this sounds like, don’t you? What the mark of the dragon means?”

His eyes glint with the surety of his knowledge – Chanyeol’s always been too good at this job. It was only a matter of time until someone figured it out, but still… Minseok had foolishly hoped things would never turn out like this. He blinks slowly, taking a deep breath and wishing life could be different just this once. His stomach flips nauseously, but he hides it well.

Maybe it’s not too late. It’s not like Chanyeol knows everything yet.

Minseok can fix this. He _will_.

But for now, he needs to continue to play his part. So he nods, eyes widening as if in sudden understanding as he says the word he’s been working so hard to keep out of the entire department’s mouths and thoughts for the last few years.

“Mafia.”

*****

“Just think about it for a minute, okay?” Chanyeol begins, nearly frantic with energy now when they’re in the car on the way back to the station.

Minseok hums in acknowledgement, ticking on the turning signal as they near a red-light.

“Mafia crime was at an all-time high just four years ago. The Kim family and the Wu family left bodies everywhere in their battle for control over the area, and they barely bothered to deny it was them, too caught up in marking their territory like a pissing contest between stray cats. I’ve looked at all the files; the department was _so_ _close_ to having enough to issue an indictment for all of them, hyung. So close! And then, suddenly, it all just _stopped._ ”

Minseok nods, narrowing his eyes as if he’s deep in thought. Like this is all new information.

It’s not.

When Minseok was five years old, he found a little boy crying under the slide at the park near his home. His mother was on a bench close by, too distracted with talking to one of her friends to notice Minseok ducking under the slide. The kid had sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and turning away to hide his face from Minseok’s tiny, concerned frown. Minseok has had a protective streak in him a mile wide since the day he was born, and this little snot-nosed kid with his scary pout and dark eyes tapped into it in mere seconds. He’d spent the rest of his afternoon sitting with the boy, sharing his slightly crushed graham crackers and his half-full juice box.

By the time the sun was setting behind a row of tall office buildings in the distance, the boy still hadn’t said a single word, but his crying had subsided. As the temperature began to drop the boy scooted subtly closer to Minseok, huddling with his thin shoulders pulled in to conserve heat.

It wasn’t long after that when Minseok heard his mother calling for him. He’d grabbed the reluctant boy’s hand and led him out from under the slide, having every intention of taking him to his mother and asking if they could keep him – Minseok had always wanted a little sibling to take care of. However, when they stood up from their hiding spot, there were four tall men in black suits, sunglasses blocking their faces and hands crossed in front of them. The little boy let out a sad, defeated sigh and marched toward them, allowing them to take him away with his head ducked to his chin and his lower lip wobbling again.

Minseok had chased after them, yelling and shouting that they had to bring the boy back. That they had to be nice to him because he was sad, ‘Stop making him sad!’ He beat against their legs with his tiny fists all the way to the sleek black car parked at the curb until his mother found him, scooping him up and apologizing profusely to the scary looking men. An even scarier looking woman had stepped out of the car, giving Minseok and his mother a look sharp enough to cut glass. She was tall and proud, features severe and intimidating. Even as a little kid Minseok had known she was someone to fear. But the small boy had grabbed her skirt without hesitation, pulling on it until she’d bent down so he could whisper in her ear. Her face transformed as she listened to the child – concern and affection softening her face gently. She’d nodded after a long moment and then stood, straightening her skirt and giving Minseok an appraising look.

She said something to his mother that he’d been too young to understand or remember, and his mom had gasped in shock, pulling Minseok closer to hide him against her chest as if to shield him from the woman’s interest. It hadn’t worked.

From that day on, Minseok has been intricately involved with the Wu family. Yifan found him at the playground nearly every day, always quiet and solemn, for months until one day he laughed at a silly joke Minseok made and gradually began opening up. He’d glared his shoes as he explained his father had wasn’t coming home ever again, and that’s why he’d been so sad when Minseok had found him that first time. Minseok had wrapped his chubby little arms around Yifan’s shoulders and held him until they had to go home.

In the autumn, Minseok had found himself attending special classes for self-defense and different martial arts skills with Yifan. The men in suits accompanied him and Yifan everywhere, and it didn’t take long at all for Minseok to get used to their presence constantly shadowing him. After a while he did start to wonder why. _Why did Yifan have bodyguards? Why did his mom look so worried every time he excitedly told her stories about his adventures with Yifan? Why did his father seem so afraid whenever the men in suits came to pick Minseok up from the house?_

Years later, Minseok had realized as teenager what the Wu family actually was. Yifan told him between shaky, chaste kisses that he was terrified of what was expected of him. That he was terrified of becoming the next leader of the Wu family. The truth was that they’d both been groomed for their roles since they were small. Yifan would be in charge, and Minseok would be his most trusted right hand man. Madame Wu probably hadn’t foreseen just how close Minseok and Yifan would eventually become, but she was accepting of their relationship as long as Yifan swore to uphold his family’s name, and Minseok vowed to do his very best to always protect Yifan.

It was the easiest promise Minseok had ever made. Even as Yifan grew taller, towering over him and becoming much more self-confident and capable, Minseok had never once thought about leaving Yifan’s side.

Which is why, a little over four years ago, he officially joined the police department after graduating from the academy. Yifan had been so pleased with him the first time he tampered with a crime scene, kissing him breathless the moment he shyly admitted what he’d done. After that it didn’t take him long to remove all incoming evidence that condemned Yifan’s family. Without police interference, it only took a couple months for Yifan’s mother to finally succeed in getting the leader of the Kim family taken out. The rest of the Kim organization was left in shambles without anyone to take charge. The remaining members fled the area, afraid of being next on the hit list.

It’d been reasonably quiet up until two months ago when some righteous kid thought he’d come back to get revenge or some shit. He’s making Minseok’s job of covering up for Yifan a hell of a lot more difficult these days.

“They all left the area, Chanyeol,” he tries to convince his partner. “Word on the street was that the leader of the Wu family was murdered, and the heir wasn’t ready to take over, so they went back to China. With them gone, the Kim family slipped back into the shadows,” he says, mouth turned down in a frown, easily letting the practiced lie slip from his lips. “They haven’t caused trouble in years. I don’t understand why they’d start now.”

Chanyeol’s entire face lights up as he pulls out his cellphone. As soon as they’re parked in the lot behind the station, he shoves it under Minseok’s nose, nearly vibrating in his seat. “Hyung, I have proof that the Wu family is back. In fact, I have my doubts that they ever left.”

On the screen is a crystal clear picture of Yifan getting out of a familiar shiny black car, blond hair styled up, black sunglasses, designer suit showing off all his best assets. Minseok barely swallows the curse on the tip of his tongue. He takes a deep breath and tries to school his face into the appropriate look of surprise. After a second he pats his partner’s arm.

“Look, Chanyeol, I admire your hard work, but I don’t know what this is supposed to prove. We don’t know who that guy is.”

Chanyeol frowns, picking at the edge of his cellphone case. It’s a nervous habit of his that Minseok clued in on during their first week together. “My contacts say this is Wu Yifan, and he’s the guy leading the Wu family. I guess we can’t prove that it’s him with just one photograph,” he pouts. “But don’t you think it’s strange that there’s no evidence except for the dragon symbol? Isn’t that a little too suspicious?”

“What do you mean?” Minseok asks with a sinking feeling. Damn Chanyeol’s observant nature.

“I-I know I shouldn’t even mention it without some kind of proof, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot. There’s no way that the mafia could get away with all this under everyone’s noses without a single mistake. And yet, we never find anything… It’s almost – well, it’s almost like someone is covering for them, isn’t it? Someone in the department must be helping them somehow.”

The words ring in the air in the heavy silence that follows Chanyeol’s declaration. He won’t meet Minseok’s eyes, choosing instead to stare out at the wet street. Minseok feels like his whole world is beginning to crumble under his feet.

If Chanyeol’s already gotten this far along in figuring it out, then the countdown has already started. It won’t take him long at all to realize Minseok’s been protecting Yifan the entire time once he really puts his mind to investigating. And, as much as Minseok likes Chanyeol, he can’t let that happen. He will not allow that to happen.

Minseok sighs heavily and drags a hand over his tired eyes. “The chief’s been so stressed lately. Let’s look into this ourselves before we tell him. Just to make sure. Okay?”

Chanyeol hesitates for a long moment before nodding with a determined fire in his eyes. “Okay, hyung.”

*****

Minseok closes the door behind him, locking the many different locks and making sure the security system is on. When he’s sure their front door is as secure as it can be, he toes off his shoes, placing them neatly beside Yifan’s giant shoes. He lets out a contented sigh as he steps into his cloud soft slippers.

He loosens his tie and shrugs out of his suit jacket, setting it over the back of the chair to take care of later. Right now he’s exhausted and all he wants to do is rest.

“Long day?” Yifan hums, coming up behind him and wrapping Minseok in his arms. Minseok groans and leans back, resting against Yifan’s warm chest.

“Yeah, it was actually, thanks to you,” he grumps.

“We haven’t been leaving any evidence behind, hyung.”

Yifan’s large hands begin to wander down Minseok’s chest, hot and heavy through the thin cotton. Minseok wants nothing more than to let Yifan peel his clothes off him and push him into the shower, getting dirty in the best way so they can get clean together, and then cocoon themselves in their king-sized bed. Unfortunately, Minseok has a promise to keep – to protect Yifan – and that will always come before his own desires.

He pushes Yifan away only far enough for him to have room to pull the holster straps from over his shoulders. The gun is laid on the table in plain sight, though, they have many, many guns hidden around their home just in case of an emergency. One never knows when a rival might burst through the door on a rampage. The Wu family doesn’t take any chances now, not after what happened to Yifan’s father all those years ago.

Glaring up at Yifan, he asks, “What about the dragon on their hands? What good is getting rid of all the evidence if you’re just going to mark the victims with the family symbol?” He rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, you might as well leave a business card behind. Make things super easy for everyone.”

“Hey,” Yifan protests, brows pinched together, “you know I have to get rid of that rat that’s sneaking around and trying to stir shit up. The _victims_ ,” he sneers, “are his low-life friends. I’m trying to get the message across that he needs to back off and stop messing with us before we take him out.”

Minseok knows Yifan’s right. The Wu family has to do something about the asshole that’s out to get revenge for the Kim family before the police get involved. Well, more involved. If Yifan can get rid of this noisy kid, then everything can go back to normal. No more dead bodies turning up at the docks. No more marking of the Wu’s territory. All the other wannabe gangs know enough to keep their heads down and to stay out of the way. They can get back to a peaceful life without the threat of discover.

As long as they get rid of Chanyeol, too.

“I know, I know,” Minseok admits, stepping closer and pulling Yifan down by the front of his shirt. He makes Yifan bend until he’s close enough to kiss without having to stand on his toes.

Kissing Yifan is still as satisfying as it was the first time back when they were fourteen. Yifan’s mouth is warm and soft. His tongue always taste like the candy he’s been eating throughout the day – normally, cherry lollipops or sour gummy worms because Yifan has an insatiable sweet tooth. His lips are smooth and plush under Minseok’s own chapped lips. They fit together seamlessly, one bending left and the other right without any conscious thought. They move with the ease and familiarity that comes from years of practice. Minseok thinks he’ll never tire of the way Yifan’s hands fit around his waist, bracketing him, grounding him, or the way Yifan’s tall fame and broad shoulders shelter him. He loves Yifan’s gummy smile that’s so bright and gentle despite the inherent darkness that his job entails.

To be honest, he just really loves Yifan.

Which is why he needs to get back to business.

Minseok pulls away, resting his head against Yifan’s broad chest and curling his hands in Yifan’s soft shirt. Yifan rubs soothing circles up and down his back, asking quietly, “What’s wrong, hyung?”

“Chanyeol’s on to us. I don’t think we have much longer until he realizes what I’ve been doing.”

They’re both quiet for a long moment after the admission. Yifan knows what Minseok is asking him to do. What _must_ be done. Minseok doesn’t want to cry, but he’s sad it has to be this way. Chanyeol’s a great kid, and a good partner. Minseok genuinely likes him. But he’s not willing to sacrifice Yifan. That is out of the question. He tries to tell himself it’s for the best as his tears wet Yifan’s shirt.

Yifan holds him tighter, rocking him gently and petting his hair. “I’ll make sure it’s quick,” he promises, and the words are meant to be comforting, but they only make Minseok cry harder. In the morning Minseok will okay. He’ll wake up beside Yifan in bed, the two of them curled together under the covers as the sun rises, and he’ll be okay. For this moment, though, he’ll mourn for the friend he’s lost.

*****

“These are some of the new recruits,” Chief Lee says, sliding a stack of manila folders across Minseok’s desk. At Minseok’s raised eyebrow, Chief Lee sighs and scratches at his chin, looking away. “It’s been three months since Detective Park’s suicide. I’ve tried to be understanding up to this point, to respect your wishes to work alone, but it’s time now, Detective Kim.”

He clears his throat and stands, walking toward the door and ignoring Minseok’s silent protests. “Look over those, and let me know which one you want to work with.” He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Detective Park wouldn’t have wanted you going off alone all the time, Minseok. You’re great at your job, the best, probably, but it’s dangerous out there. Look over those applicants.”

Minseok snorts to himself when the door shuts. The streets aren’t dangerous for him. He’s been trained to take care of himself since he was a kid. Regardless, Yifan’s underlings are always around, always in the shadows and watching out for Minseok. There’s not a person alive that could get away with harming a single hair on his head.

He sighs wistfully and smiles down at the picture of Yifan on his phone. When he puts his phone away, he shares a wry grin with the photograph of Chanyeol on his desk like it’s their own private joke. God, how he misses Chanyeol’s loud laugh and flailing limbs when he got overly excited. He was such a good kid. If only he hadn’t been a good detective. “I hope none of them are as good as you were,” he whispers to his dead partner’s picture as he picks up the first folder.


End file.
